


A Son by Another Name

by orphan_account



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Violence, isaac lives au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-05 19:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17924867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ten years ago, Arthur Morgan lost two people he loved dearly. His son, and the boy's mother. Two crosses outside of their house was all that remained by the time he returned for his occasional visits, and the sight is something that's haunted him ever since.But out there, closer than he ever realized, his boy lived. Having escaped the same fate as Eliza as her last act as a mother, he was eventually picked up by a gang of outlaws- not unlike his father was when he was younger. But this group is much different than the Van Der Lindes- in fact, they consider themselves rivals.Because Isaac was taken in by the O'Driscolls, and that's the name he now bears. And it takes a decade for him to eventually cross paths with the father he could never remember.





	1. 1

 

Snow, snow and more snow. That was all there was up in the mountains- well when there wasn’t wolves, that is. He couldn’t quite fathom why they’d choose to hole up in a place like this, when he knew they had much nicer places to go and hide. Like  _ sure  _ nobody would follow you up here… but maybe that was for a reason. Maybe a snowy wasteland like this was never supposed to be inhabited by humans.

It didn’t help that it was so painfully difficult to pass the time here, even for somebody like him. Somebody who was an expert on doing just that. But all the things he loved to do involved his hands- and the combination of punishing winds and a lack of any sort of structure with proper insulation rendered his hands near useless. His guitar and sketchbook sat in the corner of his makeshift room, tragically neglected for the time being. 

So he took to talking to pass the time, to pretty much anybody who would listen. Men were traipsing in and out of the abandoned mining settlement constantly- most he recognized in some capacity, a few he didn’t. He chatted up who he could, whoever had the time. Most entertained him in some capacity, seeing as he was the bosses’ boy and all. But they all mumbled some excuse about needed to get back to work in order to get the obviously bored teenager off their backs, and who could blame them when there was so much that needed doing? 

The only person who always had time for him was Kieran, of course. Kieran always had time for anybody who asked- but the fact that he shared the older man’s love for horses helped him to keep his attention without annoying him. He felt like he was one of the few genuine friends he had around the place, with most of the others up here with them only putting up with him because they had to. He wanted to go back South- to Six Point, where everybody else was. He knew he was supposed to stay close to Colm, though, so he stuck around and waited until he came back from whatever he was up to now. 

And soon enough he got his wish when he heard his voice coming back into camp, loud and domineering, as the men crawled out of the woodworks to greet him. He soon joined them, tossing on his coat and jogging out into the snow.

“Isaac!” He heard Colm’s voice beckon for him from atop the horse. “There you are, boy. Been keeping well up here?”

“I guess.” He responded simply, earning a frown of disapproval.

“You  _ guess _ ?” He repeated, emphasizing the last word. “What, this place ain’t up to your standards, son?” His voice was lighthearted, almost joking to the untrained ear, but Isaac knew better than to walk into that bear trap.

“It’s not that, uncle Colm…” He tried to reason. “It’s just cold as all hell, and I can barely find a thing to do, is all. I wish I could be out there helping you all more!” He added, knowing that’d be appreciated. And it was, with the leader’s face breaking out into a sly smile as he dismounted his steed. 

“Don’t worry, your time will come soon enough.” He looped his arm around Isaac’s shoulder, guiding back into the main building in the settlement that was reserved for the big boss. “Come, let’s talk about what you’ve been up to now. I need some food in my stomach, that’s for sure.” He barked out the last part to whoever was listening, definitely a command instead of just an offhand comment. Soon a couple of the O’Driscolls were scrambling to get him something to eat- the best they had. Of course they prepared a serving for Isaac as well, not wanting to take the risk of leaving the kid out. Colm rarely showed favourites- in fact he seemed to be apathetic towards most of his men equally- but he was the exception. 

Maybe that’s why so many of the men were weary of him, he wondered. He quickly scanned their faces as he walked alongside Colm and saw some rolling their eyes, some looking in disapproval. He couldn’t blame them- they were all newer recruits, and didn’t know their history. They just thought he was some brat who sucked up to the big man and got special treatment- a dead weight.

And maybe in a way, he was. He wasn’t a great shot, wasn’t very cunning and was too soft-hearted to do anything especially dastardly. An outsider would be surprised he was an O’Driscoll at all- but that was mostly because he wasn’t one by choice… he never joined up like the rest of them, gun in hand ready to fight. Being at the center of this gang was all he ever really knew by this point, aside from a few faded and blurry memories about his early childhood. 

The clearest ones were of his mother- Eliza. He kept her name close at hand, tattooed over his heart and bestowed upon his horse. He said it often, kept her at the forefront of his mind in an active attempt to not forget her. If it wasn’t for he he’d be where she is now- 6 feet under. On darker nights sometimes he had wished he perished along with her- just so they could stay together. His mother was his whole world as a kid and the thought of her looking down on him, and being proud, drove him forwards. 

His father, however? He had no memory of him aside from a handful of visits here and there. He couldn’t even remember his name, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to. As the years had passed he had grown more and more bitter when it came to thinking of his father, wherever he is. How he was never there, not even enough to be a memory. But even still his curiosity sometimes got to him- he wondered what he was like, if he had inherited any traits from him. His mother always said he had his father’s eyes… sometimes he looked in the mirror and tried to imagine the type of man that would have eyes like his. What he’d look like, be like. She always said he was a “good man at heart” but he wondered if that was just sugarcoated for his own benefit. He was only a child, and no 6 year old wants to be told their dad is an asshole. And to be fair he  _ did  _ always carry a part of his father with him in the form of a large, tan coat that his mother wrapped around his shoulders as she told him to run into the cold night. It had belonged to him- whoever he was, and as he had grown older he was slowly starting to fit into it better (although it was still quite large on him, leading him to baffle at how big a man his father is). He still wore it to this day- not sure if it was because it belonged to his dad or if because it was the last thing his mother ever gave him.

Luckily, he was able to have some sort of father figure in his life that was more stable than the one he barely knew. His name was Aidan, an O’Driscoll and old friend of Colm who was really a diamond in the rough. While most of them had no qualms about killing kids his heart was soft, and when he saw a feeble and starving young Isaac attempting to steal from his saddlebag, he couldn’t help but take the kid in. Especially after losing his own son some years earlier… it hit close to home. And so started his new life as a child living in a gang, with Aidan trying to protect him as best he could. He passed a way a few years earlier in a gunfight with the Van Der Lindes, and Isaac missed him every day. That was when Colm took him under his wing more- he was 13 at the time, and the leader saw it as a good opportunity to start molding the young boy into a mini-me, if he could. And as questionable as he was he was still one of the few solid parental figures Isaac had ever known. He kept him safe, didn’t throw him into the fray, let him work up to bigger jobs. His care seemed to be uncharacteristic of a man so… heartless. But he was family, and he supposed that meant something to the older man. His “uncle” Colm.

That was the side of them people didn’t know. 

They ate and partook in a mostly one sided conversation on the older man’s end- he talked about what their plan was- that being a train robbery of one Leviticus Cornwall, the men they had lost at the Adler ranch and where they were going next. Isaac listened intently, especially when he spoke about leaving. 

“I know you’re not  _ enjoying _ yourself up here, Isaac.” He stated simply, and the boy nodded in affirmation. “So you’ll be coming back down with me, and a few of the others. Down to Six Point.” A smile broke out on the kids’ face at the news that he’d soon be able to head back South.

“So who’s all coming? Can Duffy come?” He asked excitedly, earning a sneer in response.

“Duffy… Duffy… Is that the weird guy, always with the horses? Why the hell’d you want him to come with us?”

“He’s not that bad…” His voice was small, knowing trying to argue Colm on anything was an uphill battle but he still wanted to make some sort of attempt. “Please?” The older man sighed in response, leaning forward over the table to rest a hand on the kid’s shoulder. 

“He’s weak, Isaac.” 

“Weak?” His brow furrowed in confusion. “If you think he’s weak then… why let him join the gang at all?” Colm chuckled darkly as his mouth turned upwards into a smirk. 

“Because… He might make a mighty fine meat shield, if need be. Him and all the others like him.” He watched as the boy’s face went from confused to horrified, and decided to elaborate. “When you hire as many men as I- as  _ we  _ do, my boy, they can’t all be the cream of the crop. But it puts a big barrier between the enemies and us… Keeps us safer, you understand?” Isaac hesitated with a response, and Colm squeezed his shoulder harshly. “Do you understand?” He repeated.

“Yes… yes uncle Colm, I understand.” He thought he was done with that but the look in the other man’s eye made him know he wanted to hear something else. “...Thank you.” He whispered, the words leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He didn’t want to have to  _ thank  _ him for having such little regard for the lives he was supposed to care about… but he also didn’t want to have an argument he knew he could never win.

Satisfied with his response he went back to his meal, and the two ate in silence until they were finished. Isaac was dismissed back to his room while Colm attended to other business to do with the large score ahead. Without even a goodbye the boy stormed out, just wanting to be away from him as quickly as he could. He loved Colm like family, he really did… but he couldn’t say that he especially  _ liked  _ him all that much.

The rest of the evening he spent in his room, feebly attempting to play guitar with his numb and frozen fingers but to no avail. He wound up just passing out, waking the next morning to Kieran knocking on his door. 

“Colm wants you, Isaac.” He shouted from outside the door, his voice a bit… panicked? He didn’t stick around longer than that, and Isaac quickly gathered his stuff up only to come outside of the building to see Colm atop his horse slapping Kieran across the face. 

“What the hell?” He shouted out, his voice cracking.

“Get on your horse, kid. We’re leaving.” As pissed as he was at what he had just seen… he was more than eager to get the hell out of the cold. So without another word he ran to his horse and hopped on, trailing Colm as they rode down South. He gave Kieran a small wave goodbye as he left, reminding himself to check in with him later to see if he’s ok. He’d probably be seeing him soon, anyways...

The ride down to Six Point started off quiet. Colm seemed to really be in his own head about something, and Isaac still didn’t find himself much in the mood to talk. But as they slowly descended down the mountains and the snow turned to grass, he felt himself basking in the warmth. As soon as he could he stripped off his heavy outer layers, eager to bench the damp and restrictive garments. His well-loved coat got to see the light of day again, as did he. He felt himself leaning back, trying to soak up as much of the sun as he could. He could feel it warming him to his bones, and his mood seemed to lift in a matter of moments. Colm watched as he drank in the sunlight like a cat, chuckling at him. Soon the two were talking like normal, laughing and joking as they headed South. 

Eventually they made it to the cabin, the men mulling around the place eagerly rising to their feet for the two men arriving. There were a few greetings back and forth between them and they helped to unload Isaac’s things… but not Colm’s. 

“Aren’t you gonna unpack?” He asked him. 

“Nope. I just wanted to make sure you got here safe, boy. I have some… other business, to attend to.” He noticed the disappointed look on the kid’s face and laughed. “Don’t pull that face, now. I’ll be back soon enough, then you and I can take a nice fishin’ trip, or somethin’ else fun. Alright?” Isaac nodded eagerly and waved goodbye as Colm pulled out of camp, as if he wasn’t dreading being near him just hours earlier. That was always what their dynamic would like- he would do something, say something that made Isaac’s blood run cold. Make him question the man he was looking up to. But things always got better, and the good man he thought was deep down would shine through. Treat him like family. It left the boy confused, to say the least… but happy at least  _ some  _ of the time, which was more than could be said for a lot of people who had to deal with the head O’Driscoll. So, he took what he could get. 

He crashed on the bed in the one room cabin, staring up at the shotgun that hung over the fireplace. His eyes scanned the messy room and he frowned, but was too lazy to actually get off his ass and clean it. He supposed he could live with the clutter. 

One of the men opened the door and brought in his guitar, and THAT was something he was willing to get up for. He hurriedly took the instrument from the man's hands, mumbling out a quick thank you as he sat himself back on the bed and started to play for what felt like the first time in forever. The man who had brought it in watched him start to strum with a content look.

“Missed your playings around here, kid.” He started to subtly bop his head along to the music as Isaac settled on a tune. “Really livens up the place. I always wanted to learn myself… how’d you get so good, anyways? Anybody teach you?” 

“Nope.” He shook his head. “I taught myself when I was younger. I was always so bored, being the only kid around, too young to do anything helpful, that I needed  _ something  _ to occupy myself. Well, besides drawin’ that is. One day when I was maybe eight they brought a guitar in. Robbed it from some house, but it was so scuffed up it wouldn’t sell for much. Was good enough for me to learn, though!” He smiled as he remembered the days he spent holed up in his tent or on the back of wagons as they travelled the country, his off-tune pickings soon turning into actual music. 

“You play anythin’ else?” He nodded enthusiastically. 

“Piano, my mom taught me when I was little. Harmonica, banjo, I’ve even dabbled with the fiddle when I got the chance. For a while I even had my hands on an accordion- now  _ that  _ was something! Unfortunately all the instruments except for this one here ended up gettin’ lost or left behind at some point or another. Would love to get my hands on ‘em all again, someday!” The older man chuckled as he listened to Isaac talk about his love for music, the obvious passion in his heart seeping through into his words.

“Well ain’t that something. One of us has some actual talent that doesn’t involve robbin’ or killin’- an artist. Keep at it, kid.” And with a smile and a wink he left to go back to his work, leaving Isaac alone in the cabin with his music. But it didn’t last for long, as he quickly abandoned his guitar for his sketchbook in favour of drawing the man who had been standing there as he had seen him, leant up against the wall, his face a mixture of curiosity and pride. Before long his sketch of him was finished and he moved on to other things, trying to recall the old mining town to the best of his abilities to draw it out. Then he was drawing the mountains, the ranch they had taken over that he briefly stopped by. Then he found himself drawing Colm atop his horse in the moment his hand met Kieran’s face. He could find himself drawing Kieran’s expression easily- hurt, and meek. But when he got to the face of his mentor he couldn’t quite pin it down- he wanted it to be remorseful. The type that said “this hurts me more than it hurts you”. But he knew it wasn’t, and so he carefully detailed his lips twisted up into a devilish grin, eyes wild with power. He stopped to look at what he’d drawn, eyes scanning over the page for a moment before he quickly ripped the paper from the book and crumpled it, tossing it into the fireplace and quickly setting it ablaze

He’d try to forget the bad side he saw- he always did. It was better to watch it burn than to let it linger in his mind. And as the paper was slowly enveloped by the flames, a part of him wished he could be too.  


	2. 2

Leviticus Cornwall. A train full of loot. A score stolen. A heap of dead men. 

It was all anybody could talk about- the Van Der Lindes having yet again got the jump, slaughtering all the men left behind up North and then going along with the train heist themselves. Well, not slaughtering  _ all  _ the men, as Kieran was nowhere to be found. A traitor, Colm surmised. Any and all mourning or feelings of loss from Isaac over him were met with harsh words and planted doubts in the person he thought to be his friend. 

He hated every thought that crossed his mind about Kieran betraying them- betraying  _ him _ . Everytime he gave one any serious consideration he couldn’t help but feel wracked with guilt, knowing he was probably taken against his will and didn’t leave of his own volition. For all he knew he was being tortured, brutalized by the Van Der Lindes. And not only did Colm laugh at the idea of going to rescue him, he implied that he deserved any pain he got for abandoning them. And Isaac pretended to agree- it was easier than putting up a fight. Showing signs of opposition. 

Because Colm didn’t like opposition, especially not from his own men.  _ Especially  _ especially not from his apprentice of sorts. 

But after almost two weeks of listening to hushed whispers and drunken accusations, he knew he needed to get out- just for a while, at least. After losing so many people Colm had pretty much holed him up in Six Point indefinitely, especially considering how the rival gang mowed down any O’Driscolls they saw on sight. But luckily for the boy the older man had taken his leave for the next few days to round up some more men into their ranks to replace all the ones lost. And despite his orders to not let Isaac leave unattended, none of them cared enough to stop the teenager when he packed his bag and set out on his own for the day, claiming to have a lead on a stage robbery. He tried to ignore the way they muttered under their breath about him “finally earning his keep”. Especially since he was also grateful that they didn’t notice him slinging his guitar across his back- or if they did, nobody asked why he’d need a guitar for a “stage robbery”. 

He got to mount up on his horse, Eliza, for the first time in weeks. As eager as he was to get somewhere, he tried to enjoy the journey and his time atop the saddle. After a bit of meandering around he ended up in the nearest settlement, the small town of Valentine. Immediately the quaint atmosphere hit him and he smiled as he eyed his surroundings- in all fairness it wasn’t too different to what he was used to, but it was different enough to feel like absolute heaven on earth. 

He hitched up his horse in front of the general store with the promise of getting her some nice treats from inside when he returned. He mulled around the store looking at the various wares. In the end he grabbed the aforementioned treats for Eliza, in the form of apples- her favourite. He also grabbed himself some treats in the form of small packets of his favourite sweets- supposedly handmade chocolates from a country he couldn’t pronounce the name of. He also grabbed himself some salted meats and canned beans which were more practical for his lifestyle. The last thing he grabbed were a few packets of cigarettes and a bottle of brandy- not for himself, he found smoking and drinking to be gross habits, especially after being surrounded by so many men who indulged in both ad nauseum. But he needed some sort of gift to offer Colm if he was to find out that he left camp without permission- and one man’s nasty is another man’s nice, he reasoned. 

After the general store he couldn’t help but stop by the stables, taking a look at the few horses they had in. He came so close to buying a cute, dusty coloured Morgan but knew he had nowhere to stable him so he left him behind with a heavy heart. His last stop brought him to the saloon as something in the window caught his eye while he walked past. He nervously pushed open the doors, the eyes of the bartender landing on him immediately. 

“What’re you lookin’ for, kid?” He questioned. “Don’t serve boys your age here, I reckon. You lost?” 

“I’m not looking to drink, sir.” Isaac quickly established, although it didn’t quite look like he believed him. “I just saw this nice looking instrument here through the glass there, and wanted to know if you’d let me play a bit?” He excitedly walked over to the piano that sat to the left of the door, tracing his hand over the detailed wood as he admired it. Some of the patrons watched him with amused looks.

“You came in here for… the piano?” The barkeep chuckled as he scanned the boy’s face, trying to see if he was sincere or if this was still some ploy to get booze. 

“Yeah, I did. I hardly ever get the chance to, not one of those things you can easily bring around with you. So, may I?” He looked expectantly to the older man who merely shrugged in response. Excitedly he shrugged the guitar on his back to the ground and took his seat at the bench. 

“You play  _ guitar  _ too?” One of the people sitting at the bar asked, obviously having been listening to the conversation. 

“Sure do! I’ll play any instrument I can get my hands on. I’ll play something on there too, if you want!” He smiled as he placed his hands on the keys, taking a moment to savour the feel of them before starting to play. He started off with the sheet music already there before drifting off and playing whatever tune came to mind. Even though he was quite lost in the moment he could still tell the people in the bar were getting into it, dancing and laughing and shouting out drunken compliments on his skills. Eventually they took him up on his promise to play guitar when the normal pianist arrived, and together they played for what seemed like hours.

And it seemed like hours because it  _ was  _ hours- before he knew it the sun was starting to set and he was scrambling out the door to get home, the men inside the saloon’s disappointment in his leaving audible even from outside. It would have warmed his heart to see how much they enjoyed him if he wasn’t panicking thinking that they were going to be pissed at him for staying out so long. He was actually surprised nobody had sent for him, the more he thought about it- especially since he lied and said he was going on a job. But as soon as he approached on camp, he realized  _ why  _ nobody had come after him.

All around were bodies- bloody and littered with gunshot wounds. He looked down at the faces of the men he used to know- well, what was left of their faces. A few had their heads seemingly blown clean off, only their jaws remaining. A shotgun- easy to tell. He shuddered as he looked at the horrid effects of his own personal weapon of choice on the dead O’Driscolls around him. In his shock he didn’t even think to look around for whoever had invaded their camp in the first place- although the muffled voices he heard from inside the cabin meant he didn’t really have to. They snapped him back to reality as he quickly flattened himself against the side wall near the door in wait of whoever was inside to come out. There were two voices, he quickly deduced- one closer to where he was an another further in. He clenched his fists angrily at the thought of whoever had decimated the men rifling through his stuff. Soon he heard the voice closer to him right at the door, and it was then he realized it sounded…. Familiar. Too familiar. He only had a moment to register the voice in his head before his eyes locked onto the man it belonged to- the man he had been fighting to save the reputation of. 

“Kieran?!” He spat out before leaping from his hiding spot. The older man had no time to react before he was pushed to the ground off the front porch, almost tripping over the body of another O’Driscoll who laid there. Isaac’s hands instinctively wrapped around his throat as one knee pressed into his ribs, the other in the dirt. But he didn’t put any pressure down on his windpipe- they were there to hold him down, not to really  _ hurt  _ him. Not yet. 

“Wait-wait! Please I can-” Kieran tried to plead before he was cut off.

“You betrayed us! How could you?” His voice was shaky and he could already feel the tears starting to well in his eyes from just how furious he was. He was so engrossed in his emotions that he didn’t hear the footsteps behind him until he felt the cold barrell of a gun pressing up on the back of his skull. 

“Arthur, no- wait! Don’t hurt him, please!” Kieran begged from below him to the unknown man with the gun to his head. 

“I won’t hurt him if he gets up  _ real  _ slow, now.” The voice of the man- Arthur- was gruff, and low. Isaac did as he said, slowly releasing Kieran from his grasp and standing up off of him. The whole time he kept his back to the man threatening him, not being given even an inch to turn around. “Stay facin’ that way, boy.” The gun dropped and he could see Kieran being helped up off of the ground. Then they were whispering behind him, and he think he heard “Arthur” ask what they were going to do with him. 

“We’re not  _ doing  _ anything with him! We’re lettin’ him go.” He heard his former friend say, loud enough for him to hear. “He don’t deserve to die. He’s young, just leave him be.” Isaac let out a laugh at that, and both the men whipped their heads around to look at him.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” The gun once again made contact, this time in between his shoulder blades. 

“Him. Saying to spare me, when if I hadn’t gone out on my own earlier I’d be dead on the ground along with everybody else. Would you have cared about me then, Kieran? Or would I be another drop of blood on the hands of you and your new friends?” With that Isaac quickly spun around, one hand gripping the gun held against him and wrenching it out of the hands of the older man, who hadn’t been expecting him to act. He reached for the other pistol on his belt before halting as Isaac turned the gun on him instead. 

That was when they locked eyes for the first time, and for a moment it felt like time stopped. Neither man could quite understand what they were seeing in the eyes of the other, aside from… well aside from  _ themselves.  _ Something so familiar was there and yet neither of them could place it, so they both individually decided to just suppress it instead. It was the voice of Kieran that snapped Isaac back to reality, at least, his hands held up and voice trying to coax him down off the ledge. 

“You- you don’t wanna do this! Just- just put the gun down….please,  **_Isaac_ ** ….” The name Isaac was what brought Arthur back, just in time to see the young boy across from him lowering the gun, glaring at Kieran the whole time. 

“Just go then- get the hell out and never show your face again, Duffy. I can’t believe I ever trusted you- Colm was right about you all along.”

“Isaac, no, it ain’t-”

“JUST GO!” He shouted out one last time, tears finally starting to roll down his cheeks. Arthur was the one to take initiative, grabbing Kieran by the shoulders and lightly dragging him away- but by how heavy his movements were it was obvious he wasn’t overly eager to leave either. While his movements were focused on the man he came with his eyes never left the boy he met. The blue eyes that mirrored his own. The long, shaggy hair in quite the familiar shade. The large, tan jacket that looked oh-so familiar. And that name- a name he hadn’t heard anybody else say in years and only said himself in his darkest, most emotional moments… apologizing to ghosts of people he used to love. 

Eventually the two men found themselves on their horses, riding away from the mess they had made. The whole way back to camp Arthur’s mind was flooded with thoughts of the teenager, trying to do the math in his head and fit all the pieces he had together to come up with  _ something  _ that made sense.

He knew he’d need to be asking Kieran a lot of questions about him when they got back. 


End file.
